Connecting with joy

The Hold Steady were playing at The Cat's Cradle tonight, so of course we had to go see them. Sarah and I are both big fans of the group, and we'd seen them live once previously.

That earlier show was good. This one kicked its ass. The mix was one of the best I've experienced at a club, good enough that with or without earplugs you could understead lead singer Craig Finn's every word. With the storytelling style of their songs, that's vital. The band rocked hard for a total of about ninety minutes, with only a few minutes off between the main show and the long encore. The song selection was great, and everyone on stage and in the audience seemed to be having a great time.

Near the end of the encore, Finn said, as he did in the previous show, "There's a huge amount of joy in what we do up here, and we want to share it with you all." I know it's his standard closer, but I still believe he means it.

After the show ended, I was thinking about this concept in connection with both music and writing. The power of live music to let a group share joy is undeniable and vast; a great concert is an amazing experience.

As a writer, though, I sit alone in a room. When I nail something, when the story is alive in my mind and on the page, when I sit back and think, "Damn, that's actually what I wanted," I'm still alone. I know that thousands of people have purchased copies of One Jump Ahead (and I am grateful to each and every one of them), and I'm hoping that many more folks buy Slanted Jack and each successive book's sales grow, but the nature of the game is that I'll still be alone as I write. I think that if I could both believe I bring joy to others as they read the books and find a way to connect to that joy, I'd be a happier person.

Of course, that feels about as useful an observation as saying that if I could figure out how to grow a few more inches I'd be taller, but there you go; at least it feels like something that might one day help.